Chapter 5
The Lion’s Mouth.
Though outwardly calm, Nat’s nerves were all on edge. The excellent steak pie was sitting somewhat heavily in his stomach, and the sooner they were out of the carriage, the better. Except that the sooner they were out of the carriage, the sooner they’d have to face his family.
It was strange, really, for he’d been eager to bring Miss Bancroft down here, eager to thrust her in his family’s face and stand back looking smug when they realised their plans to get him leg-shackled were all for naught.
Now, however, when his moment of triumph was at hand, he was getting cold feet.
He knew why it was, obviously. It was because of her.
It was the sea that had done for him, or at least her reaction to it.
She had looked so utterly spellbound, as astonished as a child seeing snow for the first time, such was her innocent pleasure in the beauty of something she had only ever read about and never seen.
Though he had done it with the best of intentions, he was putting her in a dreadful position, and the reality of all the things that could go wrong, which had seemed so frail and insubstantial in London, suddenly seemed a good deal larger and uglier.
He had realised too late just how much he wished to protect her from being hurt, something he might have considered before they set off on this harebrained adventure.
But it was too late now. All he could do was exactly what he had promised to do: protect her, to keep her safe, and to ensure her future was a happy one, as best he could.
Oh, well, that was all right, then. It wasn’t as if his own future was a complete mess, he thought with a sigh.
The carriage drew them through the gates to Hatherley Hall, and suddenly there it was before them, the grand porticoed front door, flanked by neatly clipped topiary bushes, the windows glinting gold as the sun began its journey down to sink beneath the sea.
Nat wondered what Miss Bancroft would make of that, of the way the sun turned the great expanse into liquid gold.
His spirits lifted as he determined to see her reaction the sight.
“Well, here we are, then,” he said, forcing himself to appear cheerful and relaxed and all the time praying Hawkney wasn’t home. He could do with a bit of time before he faced his cousin with the news of his engagement.
“I thought you said it weren’t that grand?” Betty objected, staring up at the house and appearing somewhat daunted.
“It’s not, not really. You’ll soon get used to it,” he assured her.
Betty scampered down, where a footman instructed her to present herself to the housekeeper at the servants’ entrance. Miss Bancroft did not move from her seat, just gazed out at the house with an expression close to terror.
“Well, Miss Bancroft,” Nat said, reaching for her hand. “No backing out now.”
“No,” she said, producing a smile that was less than convincing. He only hoped she could do better for his grandmother or they’d be in the basket before the day was out.
“By the by, I can’t go calling you Miss Bancroft all day. Not if we are engaged,” he said, keeping his voice low.
“Margaret,” she said, and then pulled a face. “But I don’t like that. My father called me Meg.”
“Meg,” he repeated, smiling. “I like it. I think it suits you, it’s very…”
“Short?” she suggested, raising her eyebrows.
He snorted and shook his head. “I was going to say, ‘to the point.’”
“That’s me,” she replied, biting her lip.
“Courage, Meg, and I am Nathaniel. Nat to you,” he added with a wink.
“Meg and Nat?” she repeated, staring at his outstretched hand and wrinkling her nose. “It sounds like a disease. I’m so sorry, sir, you’ve an acute case of megandnat,” she said gravely.
Nat stared at her in surprise, then burst out laughing. “That’s very good!”
“I’m nervous,” she admitted. “I talk nonsense when I’m nervous.”
“Well, the next weeks will certainly be interesting if you don’t relax, then,” he quipped. “Shall we? If we don’t get out soon, they will wonder what’s wrong.”
“Yes. Of course.” He saw the effort she took to square her shoulders, to put up her chin, and then to place her hand in his. “Once more unto the breach, dear friends,” she murmured under her breath.
Though he knew he ought not to, Nat could not help but lift her fingers to his lips and kiss them.
“Brave girl,” he murmured, before climbing out and helping her down. “Good day, Howard!” said he said, relieved to see a familiar face as the butler stepped forward to greet them.
“Good day to you, Mr Ashford, sir, and may I say how good it is to see you back at the hall. It’s quite like old times.”
Nat smiled, rather touched by the fellow’s sincerity.
Howard had been in his grandmother’s employ for as long as he could remember and lived in his memory as a kindly fellow who always had a barley sugar about his person to cheer up a small boy.
He looked older now, his hair thinning on top and snowy white, but his eyes still sparkled with good humour.
Though, he was a terror to anyone he considered a jumped-up mushroom.
Nat well remembered that he could shrivel an uninvited guest’s liver with a single contemptuous glance.
“Well, there are one or two differences,” Nat replied, his tone confidential as he lifted the hand that still held Meg’s and gave a conspiratorial grin.
Howard’s eyes widened, and his smile was so broad Nat felt again the sense of misgiving that had begun nagging at him on the way here.
Don’t you care that they’ll be disappointed?
Meg’s words rang in his ears with unpleasant clarity, but Nat pushed them away. He would be engaged one day. Just not today.
“Oh, sir! That is splendid news. Congratulations!” Howard said, and with such enthusiasm that guilt writhed in Nat’s guts, unsettling the steak pie further.
“Shh!” Nat told him uneasily. “I’ve not told the old lady yet, though I thank you for the kind sentiment.
For the moment, might I make the introductions?
Meg, my dear, this is Mr Howard, who runs Hatherley Hall and any other property that grandmother calls home with apparently effortless efficiency, and is kind to small, grubby boys.
Howard, this is Miss Margaret Bancroft.”
“I am pleased to meet you, Mr Howard. Mr Ashford speaks so fondly of his time here at Hatherley House I have been all eagerness to see it for myself,” Meg said, striking exactly the right tone of warmth and formality to win Howard over.
If she had been too eager to please, he would have known at once something was afoot and recoiled. As it was, Nat could tell he liked her at once.
“I am certain Mr Ashford will want the pleasure of giving you a tour of the place himself, but if you would like a guide, I am at your service, Miss Bancroft,” Howard said respectfully, though it was an offer he certainly did not make often, so he must have been impressed.
Meg looked genuinely delighted, which Nat supposed was hardly to be wondered at, what with her love of history.
“Oh, I should like that very much,” she said, and with charming enthusiasm. “I have been wondering about the town too, Little Valentine is such an odd name and—”
“Another time,” Nat said firmly, seeing anticipation shine in Howard’s eyes, and his desire to give the entire history of the spa town and the house evident. “Now we’d best greet Grandmama before she sends for us.”
“Indeed, sir,” Howard said ruefully. “I shall take you to her at once, for she is beside herself at having all the family here again, and I shall be taken to task for dillydallying.”
Meg cast a glance at Nat, who merely smiled. He only hoped she was courageous enough to stand up to the Dowager Duchess of Hawkney. If she was, they would get along famously. Of that, he was certain.
Nat placed Meg’s hand firmly upon her arm, and they followed Howard inside. He heard Meg’s soft gasp and was glad he was only submitting her to staying at Hatherley Hall, for Hawkney’s seat would have sent her screaming for the hills.
As it was, generations of the De Vere family from whence his grandmother had sprung, as well as the Seymours, including his own mother, glowered down at them as they walked the echoing entrance hall, their footsteps overly loud upon the polished wood floor.
Meg’s eyes were almost out upon stalks as she gazed around her, and he was certain he heard a little squeal as she glimpsed the library through a half-open door.
“Yes, Miss Bancroft, a library, filled to the rafters with ancient books. Don’t say I never did anything for you,” he said, sotto voce.
He dared a glance at her to see her expression alive with anticipation, and despite everything, he laughed, his nerves suddenly dissipating in the light of her excitement at the prospect of discovering a hoard of new information about the world and everything in it.
Too soon, they reached the family parlour, however.
It was the room the dowager had claimed as her own, an informal room reserved only for family and close friends, where they might relax and be themselves and leave the dukedom and all that went with it behind.
Not that it worked, if Nat was any judge, but it was a comfortable room all the same and held fond memories of his childhood.
Nat entered with mixed feelings, half afraid that his grandmother’s renovations would have destroyed the charm of the place, but he had underestimated her.
Though the curtains had been changed and the paint refreshed, nothing much else had changed here, at least, and he grinned as he saw her sitting in her favourite armchair by the fire.
Still rigidly upright, and lavishly dressed, she dripped with diamonds and pearls.
Her white hair gleamed beneath a fanciful deep blue turban.
With amusement, Nat noted it too was emblazoned with diamonds and sapphires, as an ornate brooch fastened a white ostrich feather in place.
She looked every inch the dowager duchess.